#They actually blocked me for finally raising my voice to talk about the genocide my people went through

[trainerbede]

I had to go and block someone I saw saying that "no one cares about other ongoing genocides right now that aren't Isr*el-Palestine so why should they care" so. let me be clear

first off, what is happening in Sudan and the Congo right now is also unmistakably genocide. I have seen nothing but support and people trying to get more eyes on the genocides happening in other places, especially from my fellow Palestinians. solidarity has been massive and consistent, from what I have personally seen from the people I follow. using other genocides as a "whataboutism" so you don't have to care about Palestine is so maliciously bad faith.

second, people HAVE BEEN ignoring the situation in Palestine for 75 goddamn years. this genocide started long, long before October 7th and at almost every point, attempts to raise awareness or gain public support for Palestine were thwarted by the U.S. and Isr*eli imperialist propaganda machine. I remember even back in 2021, when there was a brief stint of public support for Palestine, I tried so hard to raise awareness to friends and acquaintances in some of the same discord servers I was in, only to be largely ignored and brushed off as "starting fandom drama" because I pointed out someone with a lot of followers was a literal member of the IOF making money off of their art and clout. only a few people actually listened to me at all, and most people continued to support this person as though I was blowing things out of proportion. it made me so sick to my stomach that I left those servers and felt so depressed at the idea that so few people would care when I tried to talk about literal genocide.

people have been ignoring the situation in Palestine and Palestinian voices for three quarters of a century, so don't you fucking dare imply that Palestine has too much attention now that there is finally some measure of widespread support for the first time ever. go fuck yourself, actually.

[tomorrow-withme]

The 1971 genocide was targeted against East Bengali Hindus, university students and intellectuals, basically anyone the Pakistani establishment saw as the Enemy. They mass executed Hindus just for our religion. They took Hindu women as sex slaves because maulvis in West Pakistan issued fatwas that Hindu women are maal-e-ghanimat. They raided every household to search for Hindus. They wiped out entire villages that were Hindu majority. They destroyed historical Hindu temples and businesses. They raped and massacred Hindus inside Ramna Kali temple among others. Before that, in 1947 the central government of Pakistan passed the Enemy Property Act Law which made it legal to confiscate Hindus house and land. And that law STILL exists in both Pakistan and Bangladesh. In Bangladesh it was renamed Vested Property Act Law but it still targets us Hindus. They robbed our land, they massacred and raped us. Millions had no choice but to flee and relocate in India. Stop trying to erase our genocide. The survivors and the descendants of survivors exist. Something unspeakable was done to my family members, my dad and grandparents remember it like yesterday. We exist. Everyone just keeps ignoring the fact that we exist. When war criminals (most prominently, Abdul Qader Molla and Delawar Hossain Sayeedi) were found guilty of mass murders and gang rapes of Hindus and they were punished, islamists rioted and destroyed temples and Hindu houses, raped Hindu women all over again, just like during the 90s Babri riots (riots that happened after karsevaks went to break Babri mosque because the mosque was built on top of Ram temple). We didn't really feel betrayed because we knew that all this time, these war criminals have been living well and walking free, we were just tired. We were never safe in our motherland. And now I have to see people defending a literal Islamic military junta of Pakistan and even deny our genocide, but if I say anything then I'm 'phobic' or something 🙄. Rant over.

[swaps55]

Practice kissing?!

I'd love to read this for Sam and Kaidan, if the mood strikes.

...have a little mini-AU from Sonata. I picked up from where they practice hand holding and just...extended the scene a little. ;) 

~

“For the record,” Shepard informs him, “there’s no way you’ve saved my ass forty-eight times.”

“You’re right,” Kaidan agrees. “It’s definitely higher than that. Come on, let’s go.”

He heads for the entrance to his parents’ building. But a couple of meters from the lobby door it’s Shepard’s turn to hesitate. Kaidan looks back over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. “Are you having second thoughts?”

They're about to go walk into his parents' condo as a fake couple. One of them should probably have a few.

Shepard crosses his arms, brow furrowing, and rocks back on his heels. “Not a second thought. But. A thought.”

Kaidan’s eyebrow arches higher. Whatever the thought is, it’s under his skin now, and knowing Shepard, it’ll be hell getting it out. “That sounds serious.”

The furrows deepen.

Stop thinking it’s cute.

“What if they expect us to kiss?”

Kaidan nearly chokes. “Why would they expect that kind of PDA?”

Shepard shrugs, consternation growing while Kaidan stares at him, a little dumbfounded.

Kiss Shepard? Hell. Kaidan had been trying to talk himself out of a tree over a little hand holding. But kissing him? 

“No one’s going to expect you to kiss me,” Kaidan says, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Yeah, that’s what the current mission parameters say,” Shepard argues. “How many times have we gotten through a combat drop without changed mission parameters?”

“Changed mission parameters? We’re talking about dinner with my parents, not infiltrating a merc stronghold.” 

Shepard scowls. Yup. That thought is under his skin all right. 

Bringing the rachni back from the dead? No sweat. Finding a mind-controlling plant monster? All part of a day’s work. Oh, genocidal AI trying to end life as they know it? That had just pissed Shepard off. Kissing his best friend? Total panic.

It actually…stings a little.

“Shepard, you do not have to kiss me,” Kaidan says with a sigh. “That’s not part of the deal.” Thank god. It might actually be the end of him if it was.

“Kissing you isn’t what I’m worried about,” Shepard mutters.  

“Okay I don’t get it. What’s going on?”

Shepard starts to pace, getting more agitated by the second.

“Look,” Kaidan says, baffled now. “We can call this whole thing off if you—”

“It’s been a long time since I kissed someone,” Shepard says, coming to an abrupt halt and planting his feet, as though he’s finally identified his foe and decided CQC was his best option.

Kaidan blinks. “Okay. Um.”

Shepard crosses his arms again, defiantly now. “I don’t enjoy it. I find it boring and weird, so I don’t kiss people.”

“Then don’t…kiss me,” Kaidan says, shrugging off a sense of disappointment. So Shepard doesn’t enjoy kissing people. It’s not like Kaidan is eager to see him kiss other people. 

The gravity well shifts as Shepard toys with it, worrying dark energy into invisible knots like it’s a loose thread.

“Hey,” Kaidan says, softer this time. “What happened to ‘we’re pretty good at you and me?’”

Shepard huffs and jabs at the sidewalk with his toe. “We are. That’s the problem, I guess. You and I are good, but. I’m not…good. At that.”

“Kissing people.”

“Yeah.”

Kaidan swallows. “So you’re saying that now that we’ve mastered hand holding, you want to give kissing a go. To make sure we don’t fuck it up.”

He shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe.”

Along with his suddenly dry throat, Kaidan’s heart starts to pound. “Um.”

“Forget it.” Shepard sets his jaw and strides past Kaidan, through the door of the condo building and into the lobby. Kaidan almost has to jog to keep up.

“Wait a damn minute,” Kaidan says, still trying to wrap his head around how spectacularly this has gone wrong in the space of about a minute. “You’re pissed at me.”

Shepard looks left and right for an elevator. Kaidan heads left and goes straight to it, nearly running into a gentleman who’d just gotten off one. The door slides closed before they can get on it.  

“Are we really going to go up there and pretend to date in front of my parents with you pissed at me?” Kaidan asks. 

“I’m not pissed at you,” Shepard says, smacking the elevator call button with his fist and continuing to pace while they wait for it. “I’m inventing a problem and getting bent out of shape about it.”

In spite of himself, a small smile curves Kaidan’s lips. “You’re afraid you’re going to be a bad kisser. Even though there is no conceivable scenario in which you’ll be expected to prove you’re my boyfriend by making out with me in front of my parents.”

“See?” Shepard says as the elevator doors open. “You get me.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot who saved the goddamned galaxy.”

“With a few other idiots as backup.”

The elevator door slides closed when they step inside. Kaidan jabs the button to the 18th floor, shaking his head in bemusement.

Shepard scowls at him as the elevator begins its ascent. “You’d be taking me a lot more seriously if I was worried about my aim.”

“Correct,” Kaidan agrees. “I would be.”

“Well damn, the truth hurts, I guess. I just opened up and shared this massive insecurity I have and here you are—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Kaidan doesn’t give either of them a chance to think. He just acts, reaching across the elevator cabin and grabbing Shepard by the front of his uniform. Shepard’s eyes widen as Kaidan closes the gap between them with one swift yank.

This isn’t like that moment on the Normandy’s crew deck during the lockdown. There is no ‘almost,’ this time, no hovering mere centimeters apart, staring at Shepard’s lips and wondering what they would feel like against his.

He doesn’t have to wonder anymore because they are against his.

It’s clumsy. Awkward. How could it not be, with Shepard flailing just to stay on his feet. Warning bells go off in Kaidan’s head, but they’re both in it now, and he’s going to see it through if for no other reason than pure spite.

Bad at kissing, my ass.

Okay, there’s some truth to it. At first. Shepard’s lips move over Kaidan’s like he’s trying to stick the wrong side of an OSD into the slot, tentative and unsure. But then something happens, like an electric shock through Kaidan’s system.

They’ve shocked each other hundreds, maybe thousands of times over the years. Two biotics sharing the same space make it practically routine. But this time that static shock gets under his skin and stays there, low and humming, their biotic fields intersecting with an intensity they haven’t quite shared before. Kaidan inhales sharply as Shepard’s mouth settles against his like it belongs there, like it fits, kissing him back with an urgency that’s nothing short of alarming. And exhilarating.

They’re about five floors from their destination when Kaidan’s better judgement finally kicks in and he releases his grip on Shepard’s uniform, shoving him gently, reluctantly, away. Silence hangs between them as they catch their breath.

No. Not silence. Kaidan’s heart is pounding so loud he’s positive his parents can hear it from here.

“See?” Kaidan manages when he can get enough air back in his lungs. “You’re fine.”

Shepard draws in a shaky breath. “Yeah. Ok. Good. We’re good.”

“Boring anyway, right?”

“Yeah,” Shepard says, wetting his lips. “Never saw the point of kissing someone.”

The elevator chimes as it comes to a halt, and the door slides open. They stare at each other. It’s only when the elevator starts to close that Kaidan shoots a hand out to block it.

“They’re waiting for us,” Kaidan says. Fuck, they’re still so close to each other.

“Right. Yup.” Shepard’s eyes drift back to Kaidan’s mouth before he straightens and walks out of the elevator, tugging at the front of his uniform to smooth out the wrinkles left by Kaidan’s hand. Kaidan exhales slowly before following him. His parents’ door looms just down the hall and to the left.

Kaidan’s lips still tingle, Shepard’s invisible current lingering long enough that it takes every ounce of restraint he has not to spin Shepard around and do it again.

Fuck, he’d give anything to do it again.

What were you thinking?

That wasn’t blurring lines. That was plowing right through them with a shotgun. That’s Shepard’s MO, not Kaidan’s.

Four days. They’re going to put on this ruse for four days?

Fuck.

Shepard glances at him when they come to a stop in front of #1822, uncertain smile on his face. “Ready for this?”

No. No way in hell.

“Yeah,” Kaidan says, swallowing and pressing the door chime. “I’m ready.”

[yurio-plisetksy]

Soooo I LOVED your Lotor x reader if you could write either a prequel or sequel where she talks with Allura. Since Allura would kinda hate the idea of leaving him alive. Maybe the reader could take Lotor to Auschwitz. Showing him what him keeping the Alteans could have been ya know??

I’ve never been to Auschwitz, but I have been to Sachsenhaus once, which was already very emotional by itself. For some people this might be a trigger so I will tag it with a trigger warning, just in case. 

This is an alternate sequel of my previous imagine, because in the previous one Lotor hadn’t been involved with the genocide of the Alteans. In this Imagine he has. Hope you like it!

Warning: Holocaust mentions, angst, fluff, happy ending.

“Shiro, is that you?”

Your eyes stared at one of the monitors,hoping the other could hear you call out to them. It was deadly silent, and the broken message you received a few minutes prior almost seemed like it had been an illusion. The voice that had come through the intercom hadn’t been able to send another message, and it could be that they were out of range. That was until another wave of static and broken words came through.

“-etting…..close-”

While you had hoped it to be a little more clear, it was enough to recognize the sound of Shiro’s voice.

“I’m here, please respond!” You tried once more, eyes flickering over the open space in front of you in the hope of seeing at least a glimpse of where they were.

“__?” Another voice spoke, better to understand as he was probably closer in range than Shiro.

“Lance, I’m here! Can you locate me?” You asked, and you heard Lance cheer within his lion. He was probably the first of them to actually hear something for you, and you couldn’t control the smile that appeared on your face as he told you they were coming to get you.

But you didn’t want them to come ‘get’ you. You just wanted to see them again.

Now that Lotor had asked you to be his empress, you had decided to stay by his side, no matter his actions. His promise to let the Alteans go was the only condition that was as important to you as your marriage, and you were going to make sure not a single Altean would be trapped on that planet no more.

But you knew the disgust towards the emperor remained with the paladins, and especially Allura, who could be somewhat sensitive about the subject of her people. There was just one thing she seemed to forget each time, and that was that Lotor was half Altean as well. Her blood was running through his veins as well.

Lotor wasn’t too pleased to see you communicate with the Paladins, as he watched from a distance as you chuckled and smiled as Lance and the others were getting closer and closer.

His hands were folded over his chest, eyes narrowed onto the screen that displayed your conversation with the lions.

“We’ve retrieved your location, __. We’ll see you in a bit.” That was the last message you received before breaking your communication and turning back to Lotor. You could see the way he looked at you. Disapproval radiated of his whole stance, and you walked over him to try and convince him to at least try and talk to them.

“I don’t want to hear, ___.” He snapped immediately, and you scoffed at his stubbornness.

“You should at least give them a chance, Lotor.”

“Why should I? They planned to kill me.”

“You killed half of Allura’s people by harvesting their quintessence. You’re in the wrong here, Lotor.” You spoke, keeping your eyes locked onto his to show your determination. It wasn’t like you to back down and Lotor knew this. There was no way he wasn’t going to be facing the paladins today, but he was definitely prepared for the worst.

“Don’t expect me to act all nice towards them. If they attack, I will show no mercy.”

You could get mad at Lotor, but you knew the way he was raised, and he would not back down if they would charge at them. That was why you had to prevent any conflict between the two parties in favor of bringing them together. With a sigh you walked up to him, your hands cupping his jaw in a loving gesture. His eyes were sharp and alert, but he couldn’t help himself from melting into your touch, placing one of his hands over yours.

“After all of this is over, I need to show you something… something very important in your quest for quintessence.” Those were the only words you could use to persuade him, and he seemed to fall for your reasoning. His eyes beamed at the mention of quintessence, and it only proved that his greed had not completely disappeared yet.

Suddenly, alarms started blaring, and you jumped at the sound. In immediate reaction Lotor wrapped his hands around your frame, and pulled you tightly against him. His hand was quick to retrieve his blade, and he held it in front the both of you while the sound of footsteps neared the main control room.

His eyes narrowed as the sound became more prominent within seconds, and at one point the doors of his ship shifted open and revealed none other than the Paladins themselves.

Allura, Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Keith and Shiro were all there, eyes diverting towards a certain emperor standing between you and them. From their previous curious looks was nothing left as they immediately used their bayards and weapons while keeping a defensive stance.

“Get away from her, you bastard.” Allura spoke, eyes filled with pure rage as she met the gaze of Lotor. Her hate towards him rooted deep into her systems, and it was only an easy way for Lotor to trigger her.

“Do you believe you have the right to say that after nearly killing her? It was me that came to her rescue.”

Your eyes fell to Shiro, and you gasped as you noticed his arm was missing and his hair had turned completely white. He seemed somewhat confused about the situation and you wondered if the others had even told him about their attempt in the rift. By the looks of it he seemed unaware about the fact that they accidently shot you in their battle with Lotor.

“I won’t hesitate to kill you now if you don’t step away from ___, Lotor.” Allura warned, stepping towards him and narrowing her eyes at his presence. Lotor gritted his teeth in response, and he seemed ready to lash out at them at any time.

“Guys stop!” You called out, and their eyes all turned towards you. The paladins seemed confused by your raised voice, but Lotor was only irritated that you were actually going to force them to talk this out.

With a sigh you gently unwrapped yourself from his arms and placed yourself in between Lotor and the Paladins. Allura walked up to you and tried to pull you into a hug, but as her arms raised to embrace you, you gently pushed her away by placing your hand against her chest. Her eyes looked up at yours, and you shook your head with a look of sadness as you denied her act of affection.

“Allura… I’m not leaving Lotor.”

Her eyes widened, along with the rest of them. A sad chuckle fell from her lips, and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you stepped away from her.

“W-What are you talking about… that man’s a murderer!” She snapped, but you didn’t react towards her raised voice, and only stood by Lotor’s side. Your fingers intertwined with his, and he finally released his defensive stance. He eyed the paladins one by one, all more than shocked to see that you had really chosen his side.

“You’re quite mad, ___. You’re not really going with him, are you?”

“That’s no way to talk to your empress, princess.” Lotor interrupted, and it only confused them even more. Lance seemed like his mind was about to explode, and Hunk’s jaw almost dropped to the floor in response to the announcement.

Keith and Shiro both seemed enraged at his words, and the anger that once disappeared from their eyes returned within a blink of an eye.

“Empress? ___ is this true?” Allura asked you, unbelief in her eyes as she watched you side with Lotor. What surprised you was that they never expected you to side with him. They knew the relationship between you and him, how would they not possibly have guessed that you weren’t just going to let him go. He meant something to you. He loved you just as much as you loved him and it was only a matter of time before the two of you got married.

“Allura, it was going to happen at some point. You knew about our relationship, Allura, you all did.” You weren’t sure how the situation was going to progress, but the last thing you had expected was for Allura to charge right at you.

“Then you’ll die with him!” She exclaimed and stepped towards you as she proceeded to attack. Your eyes widened as her wips hit the floor in front of your feet, and your arms immediately shot up to protect your face. To your surprise nothing happened and as you opened your eyes you saw that Lotor had stepped in front of you and blocked the attack with his sword. Shiro and Hunk were keeping Allura back, arms hooked around her shoulder and keeping her from moving.

They didn’t seem too fond of your relationship with him as well, but killing you had never even crossed their minds. It surprised them too that Allura had been so brash about her actions towards you.

“Allura, calm down! This is ___ we are talking about!” Lance spoke, dropping his weapon and stepping in front of Allura as another barrier between you and her. She groaned and struggled against the grips of the paladins, but eventually she gave up and let herself relax in the arms of her friends.

“He’s killing the Alteans for his own good, and you side with him?!”

“But he’s going to set them free because of me.” The room turned silent once more, and you dropped your arms to your sides to look at the group of paladins. Lotor backed down as well, his sword vanishing and the handle put away at the back of his armor. He sighed and turned to you, a indication that he didn’feel threatened as he turned his back to the paladins.

“The one condition ___ asked before marrying me was for me to set the Alteans free.” He eyed you up and down, hand placed on your shoulder. “I agreed.”

Now the paladins were completely silent, and you weren’t sure if it was out of confusion or they just couldn’t believe Lotor’s words. You had managed to set the all the Alteans free just because he loved you, and apparently his love for you was stronger than his greed for quintessence.

Keith was the first to accept it, and he put his blade away and joined your side. The rest gawked as he walked past the emperor and stood by your side with his arms crossed. He eyed Lotor with lingering hatred, but knew it was best to reform their alliance.

“Keith… are you serious?” Allura asked him, and he kept silent in response. You smiled and placed your hand on his shoulder.

The next one was Pidge, who hadn’t spoken a word until now. She crossed the invisible border between Allura and Lotor and spoke a few simple words.

“Neither of you is right, but siding with ___ doesn’t feel wrong.”

Shiro for some reason smiled at her words, and as he had watched Keith join you as well, he had almost already decided to join you as well. He stood beside Keith and joined your alliance as well. Hunk and Lance were quick to follow, and they silently placed themselves behind you as well.

You looked over at Allura, who seemed completely broken at the sight of everybody on your side. Her hands trembled by her sides, and her eyes were glistening with tears. But you never intended to separate from her, so you extended your hands out towards her with a gentle smile.

“Allura please don’t make this any harder… I want you here with us.”

Her eyes flickered over your welcoming hand, but once they averted to Lotor again she shook her head and took a step back. Her hand clenched into a fist before she gently placed it in your hand. You offered her a smile and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Thank you, Allura. It means a lot.”

“Where are we?”

It was weird to walk up here without him knowing what it had been. People still mourned about all who died here, and just the sight of it alone was causing goosebumps over your skin. Lotor followed you through the gates, watching people walk around with flowers in their hands and sad looks on their faces. He didn’t know where he was, but something terrible must have happened here.

“It’s called Auschwitz, known as a concentration camp.” Lotor eyed the words above the entrance, and it was a language he couldn’t even try to pronounce. You noticed him eyeing the words and helped him.

“Arbeit macht frei. It means “work makes freedom”.” There seemed to dawn something upon Lotor at your explanation, and he turned to you with narrowed eyes. You ignored his gaze and continued walking, but Lotor was quick to stop you by grabbing your wrist.

“___, what is this place?” He asked, and you told him to follow you. You would explain more as you showed him everything, because than it seemed to make more sense. Lotor shrugged and let you guide him through the camp, eyes lingering over everything that passed you without hearing a single word from you.

Without having a clue what a concentration camp could be, everything was just extremely confusing.You often halted at a specific spot, eyed one or two objects that stood there, before continuing with a sad look in your eyes. Each time you stopped Lotor would inspect the object and try to guess what it could be.

At one particular room you stopped, took a deep breath and turned to Lotor. His eyes roamed over the concrete walls. The walls were stained and there was an atmosphere inside that Lotor couldn’t place his finger on. There was something about the room that made Lotor extremely uneasy. Luckily, you explained to him why it did.

You grabbed his hand, and Lotor turned his head to you with a curious gaze. He listened carefully as you explained.

“Lotor… thousands and thousands of people died in here. They stood right here were we are. Women, men and children.”

Lotor’s ears dropped and you figured it was a sign of sadness, maybe even hurt. As soon as you told him what happened in the room you stood in, he was desperate to get out. “How many?” He questioned as you returned back to the outside, were he took a deep breath as if the air inside seemed to important to take.

“From the gas chambers… thousands. But a million people died inside this camp, from disease, experiments, abuse… Innocent people, Lotor. People who had families, who went to work everyday only for it to end so suddenly… and it was all because of 1 man.”

You showed him even more of the camp, and with each explanation there seemed to change something within Lotor. He seemed hurt, his ears permanently dropped beside his head at all the information he was given and the stories that were shown within the huge museum.

“Why?” Lotor asked as you walked through the gates with him once more. You walked beside the long rails that led up the the entrance of Auschwitz and there was a heavy weight on your chest as you had to explain who the man had done it.

“Because people believed in something. Because they were born a certain way… there was nothing they could have done to prevent their capture. They were labeled unpure and forced to live in these camps.”

His eyes widened.

“W-Wait, there are more?”

“Yes, Lotor… so much more.”

He couldn’t understand why someone would do something so cruel. What kind of sick mind would even think of cursing such a fate upon innocent people like them. They poisoned, burned, abused and experimented on these people until there was no other way out than dying.

He halted, and you turned to him with a sad smile. He knew why you brought him here, he only needed a confirmation.“Why did you bring me here?” He asked, his face stoic, and you knew it was a question that had no need to be answered. But you figured the least you could offer him was the truth behind your intentions.

“I don’t want you to become like that as well.”

Lotor didn’t respond. He was too busy thinking about his own actions. The Alteans, he let them think he saved them, while he was actually doing the same that had been done here for years. He killed them, and he was just as cruel at all the people that had worked for them.

“But you can change this, Lotor. You still have the chance to turn their fate around. All these people did not. We lost the Alteans twice, please don’t make Allura and Coran mourn a third time.”

Lotor changed after his visit on earth, and you weren’t the only one who noticed. When Shiro had asked you where he was he seemed to have himself locked away in his private quarters. He stayed in there for days until he finally came out, looking absolutely ravaged. He ordered his generals to return to the Altean planet to set them free, and while the Paladins were happy to help the Alteans get off their planet, Lotor didn’t even want to make an appearance. He was too ashamed of his own actions and figured he would prove himself worthy to be their leader with time.

Two weeks later you stood by his side, a mighty robe hanging from your shoulders and a beautiful necklace displayed at the base of your throat. Your fingertips traced over the jewel, and you smiled. The paladins were back home for a bit, visiting their families and having some time off while everything within the Galra empire remained peaceful.

Your eyes averted up at Lotor, and you inspected his features as he stared out in front of him, his gaze on the open space. It took him a while to catch you staring at him, and he chuckled before questioning you.

“What are you looking at, my love?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, my emperor.” You smirked and turned your gaze in front of you as well. Lotor eyed your face and chuckled, grabbing your hand and squeezing hit within his own.

“Let’s make this our legacy, my empress.” He spoke and kissed the back of your hand. You giggled and nodded.

“Yes, let’s make this the perfect empire.”

[flatorangecat]

I didn’t know what to name this so it won’t have a title. Just a warning this includes some spoilers for DeltaRune, as it is in the perspective of someone who has just completed the pacifist run of the game. Not really meant for anything, just a snip of story.

It seemed like so long since you had last seen the surface. Susie turned to you, reflecting your own confusion as the two of you stood amongst the discarded games of playing cards, blocks, and chess pieces. The day had been long enough fighting to maintain the balance of light and darkness within the word, but discovering the whole thing may have only been a dream weighed on your shoulders even more.

Even so, the two of you decided to head home, as the sun danced low along the horizon and you didn’t want your mother to worry. You weren’t sure how the passage of time worked between this world and the other, but you were sure by the sunset as you strolled through town that about half a day had elapsed as you took your adventure. It had been a while since you went through the routine, so out of curiosity you stopped at every establishment to reintroduce yourself to the locals before finding your way back home.

Some things hadn’t changed, familiar faces revealed themselves, though not in the same context as before. Others didn’t change, like the good ‘ol Librarby that sat a block away from your school. Burger pants seemed to recognize you immediately, raising your hopes slightly. At first you thought he remembered you - the real you, from before- but he deviated to talk about Asriel and the past you two shared growing up together with the king and queen. No talk of previous jobs or fancy dancing robots who made him sell burgers adorned with edible sequins (though after stopping at the diner you realized those still existed). You were still the only one whose consciousness persisted through the timelines. Despite how many times they changed, you were still you.

Sadness began to pull at your soul the more you listened to the townsfolk relay their stories. Some relationships blossomed, whereas others you knew were meant to be together didn’t even know the other existed. You quickened your pace until you came across what looked like a familiar establishment a street up from your house. It almost looked like Grillby’s, but all the letters had been scribbled over the abandoned building with graffiti save for the ‘S’ at the end. Instead, the letter remained to help spell a new word, a name- Sans.

Your soul jumped a little, remembering one of your previous encounters with Sans. The morbidly curious aspect of yourself had gotten the better of you, leading you astray from the true path and straight down the road to mass genocide. Sans was the only one who seemed to understand the anomalies, and partially how you seemed to be connected with them. If there was anyone other than you who could remember times from before, it would be him. Aside from the first fallen child, that is. After spacing out at the sign for a moment to recount that, you half smiled when you recognized a small skeleton lounging on the front steps of the boarded up building.

“Hey, long time no see.” You commented. Sans gave you a blank stare with his quinticential toothy grin.

“hey buddy. think you might have the wrong person, we’ve never met before. my bro and i just moved into town here.” You fought back the burning sensation that began to build behind your eyes. Not even he knew what was going on.

“Right.. I- I thought you would remember me is all. Sorry.” Instead of continuing the awkward conversation you turned to leave, actually heading for home this time to bury your head under the covers of the mess you call a bed. A voice called out from behind you to wait a minute so you reluctantly turned around.

“am i supposed to know you?” Sans asked, expressing genuine concern and confusion across his skull. You bit the inside of your lip briefly.

“Yeah. You’re supposed to know asriel, and my mom-“

“of course i know your mom, i was aquatinted with her last night.” He laughs and gives you a wink. You clench your fists.

“Sans I’m being serious! You dont even know who I am. And it’s just.. frustrating. But I’m guess I’m expecting too much, aren’t I. Try to change the timelines again, convince Chara to help open the barrier so the other children would be spared, but at what cost is it for everyone else’s lives to practically be ruined?” Sans began to advance towards you, arms outstretched as if that could calm you down.

“it looks like this is a pretty nice town, the people here seem happy.” Your eyes narrow are you snap to him.

“How closely are you looking? Besides, in this timeline you don’t even know anyone other than your brother so how would you expect to understand what’s going on. I thought there was more to you but in reality you’re just another one of them. Another part of the game that I changed.” A guilt formed a pit in your stomach. You didn’t mean to go off on sans, but that had been the last straw to break your back. He meant so much you you, your friendship, your relationship, was now meaningless. You sank down to the ground, drained of energy. Sans placed a hand on your back tentatively to rub small circles.

“‘m sorry, didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”

“You can’t help it. It’s fine.” You shrugged out of his grasp and set course for home finally. Maybe getting some sleep would help you forget this confusing nightmare. Maybe it would help clear your mind before you impulsively reset again. After greeting your mom at the door you strode straight to your room, kicked off your shoes, and threw the covers over your head before nodding off recounting the curious new characters you met earlier.

—————-

You woke with a start, struggling about trying to find the edge of your blankets. Something was cutting off your air flow, making it impossible to sleep, let alone breathe. When you finally got out from under the covers you realized it wasn’t something, but someone instead. The force on your soul tightened as you focused on it, causing you to double over onto the floor and clutch at your chest. As if by instinct, your body began to move on its own. The hand that clutched your chest dug tighter and tighter into the skin, pain nearly blinding you until you saw a flash of red. You realized too late you weren’t in control any more.

Suddenly the perspective changed and you were thrown against something cold and hard. You tried to look around but your senses had been clouded. Colors surrounded you, but no distinguishable features could be found. The sound of screeching metal clued you in that you somehow wound up in the old birdcage on the corner of your room. Only your pain radiated through the darkness, not even the silence could comfort you. Just then a voice spoke- your voice. Except you weren’t speaking.

“Oh how long has it been since I inhabited this body. I have to say, you did a good job of keeping it warm for me.” Your thoughts buzzed with frustration. A chill ran down your now nonexistent spine as you realized who this was. They acknowledged your shift in emotion.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you. Think you’ll find this spot nice and cozy for some time while I take this baby out for a test drive. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

You did mind, actually.

“Great. Well, if youll excuse me,” there was a faint scraping sound as they pulled something out and laughed. “I have some unfinished business to attend to.” Footsteps sounded as Chara exited the room, leaving you alone in your thoughts. You tried to cry out and warn everyone, even though they weren’t the same ones you knew from before, you still cared about them. You still wanted to warn them about the dangers that lay ahead. But nothing happened. All you could do was sit there, alone, in the cage, until you could figure a way to take your body back from the one who stole it in the previous life.

[officialjkhogan]

STRAY: Chapter Five

STRAY: Chapter Five

by J.K. Hogan

Years later, Sebastian still remembered that boy. Of course, years were like drops in the ocean for his kind. He’d often strolled down that street during his patrols of the city, but he never caught sight of the kid again. The house fell into disrepair, and eventually the whole block of row houses was torn down.

This night, Sebastian was hosting a conclave of the Sentinel at Club Sanctuary. A few of the envoys were less than happy with the venue, but he couldn’t have cared less if he were a corpse. They convened in a banquet room in the back, adjacent to the suite that had been converted to a homeless shelter. Envoys turned up their noses in distaste.

Cyprian was the only envoy present from Sebastian’s inaugural meeting. Around the table, there were unfamiliar faces with familiar hard expressions. The last year had been a dark time. They’d lost too many humans, and the Sentinel was losing ground.

The Vampire wore all black—a black turtleneck that molded to his slender form, black jeans, black boots. Beyond that, he could have been any twenty-something twink with a melanin deficiency. This time Cyprian held court at the head of the table, even though it was Sebastian’s territory. It was a clear statement that Sebastian did not misunderstand.

Cyprian was flanked on the left by Iskra, a female Delphic, Quirin and Aleksey, Loupos and Canis respectively, and a newcomer called Aedon, an Aviscindo. Incredibly rare, Aviscindae were bird shifters, and Aedon was the first Sebastian had ever met in person. On the Vampire’s right was Bohdan, an Ursascindo who was almost as big as a bear in his human form, Kishore, a Banshee, and Feroze, a Demon with a face only a mother could love.

Tension suffused the room, making Sebastian’s skin prickle as fine hairs stood on end. If he were in his Felis skin, he’d be puffed up like a blowfish. They’d been arguing about what should be done about repeat offenders. Some wanted to build a prison, warded against the Supernatural. Others lobbied for a swift and merciful end of life, while still more advocated for torture and a much more painful death.

The only thing the envoys all seemed to agree on was that what they’d been doing—banishment—was not working. The general consensus had been to table the discussion until the Envoy Summit the next month. More opinions were needed than just the eight who were present at the conclave.

“Next on the agenda,” Cyprian said in his smooth, cultured voice, “is the problem of the Whisper Communes. They’re gaining ground all over the Allied Territories, and my scouts have learned that there is a prolific one right here on the outskirts of Beltrane. Sebastian, do you have any insight?” The slick Vamp raised a manicured eyebrow in challenge, probably because he knew very well Sebastian hadn’t a clue what he was talking about.

Seeing no way around it, Sebastian had to take the bait. “What are Whisper Communes? I haven’t heard of them.”

Cyprian’s lips curled in a hard smile with just a hint of fang. “Whisper Communes are the newest religious fad among the humans, especially the doomsdayers awaiting the next purge. The communes are run by churches, usually centered around a single religious leader or, in some cases, a group of leaders. They’re hailed as prophets, saviors, while the humans are ignorant to what they really are.”

“Which is?”

“Dark Mages, usually,” said Feroze. “Though some of my kind have jumped on the bandwagon as well.”

Fuck…Demons. Something tickled Sebastian’s memory, but it slipped through his metaphorical fingers each time he tried to reach for it. “But why do they do it? What do they get out of it?”

“That, we don’t know for sure,” Cyprian answered, obviously disgruntled over the lack of information. “Worship, perhaps...adulation. Control. What evil wizard wouldn’t want a bunch of brainwashed humans to do his or her bidding? Or maybe it’s something worse.”

“Worse?” Sebastian asked.

“Worst case scenario? A vehicle for genocide. If you know your history, consider instances such as Jonestown and Heaven’s Gate during the second half of the twentieth century, or the Halcyon Brethren of the mid twenty-first. Imagine if cults like that could coordinate across the territories, and throw in the influence of Magick-Users? We could be talking global extinction.”

“If that’s their goal,” Kishore added. Her expression was skeptical.

“Yes, if,” Cyprian conceded. “But I think we have to presume the worst so we’ll be prepared for anything.”

Finally that errant memory took hold, and Sebastian saw flashes of a slender form, of teary brown eyes, of a boy running. “Actually… Now that I’m thinking about it, I think I’ve met someone who came in contact with the church who runs the commune in Beltrane. It was a boy I saved from a Vampire attack a few years ago. From Rydic,” he said, his gaze sliding to Cyprian, whose mouth tightened almost imperceptibly.

“I was keeping an eye on him in my Felis form, and he was upset so he started talking to me—to a cat. Apparently his parents abandoned him to go live at the commune, and they signed over their house to the church. The kid was basically squatting until the church came to claim the house.”

“Why didn’t they take the boy?” Iskra asked.

“I… I’m not sure,” Sebastian said. “I couldn’t ask without revealing myself. I think maybe he refused to go? And something about them not being his real parents. I don’t think he was sure whether he was adopted, or if it was something they’d said to drive him away. They called him a monster…”

Cyprian steepled his fingers, regarding Sebastian with a cool stare. “Could’ve been one of your Felis cast-offs, yes? Your mountain-children?”

“I suppose it’s possible, but in Roth, we keep close track of the gets, and they are either given to allies who know the truth about us, or to infertile humans desperately seeking children, who’ve been fully vetted. Though I can’t say what other strongholds in other territories do.”

“Where is the boy now?”

For a fraction of a second, profound sadness gripped Sebastian’s heart in its tight fist. “I lost track of him. The house fell into disrepair and was eventually torn down. I don’t know what happened to him. He’d be a man now—had almost been at the time.”

Cyprian’s fist clenched, his sharp nails appeared to be digging into his palms until Sebastian was sure there should be cold blood seeping beneath his fingers. “Find him. Find the boy. I want to know what he knows about the Whisper Commune. This is happening in your backyard, Sebastian the Lucent. Don’t fail me.

****

Days after the conclave, Sebastian was still irritated at being treated like both a servant and a failure by some Vampire. It didn’t matter that Cyprian was a Trueborn, the Feliscindae still considered the bloodsuckers an inferior species. Sebastian made a concentrated effort to see past his affront to realize that he really did need information about the Whisper Commune, because the very concept was dangerous. Gods knew what that horde of fanatics was doing just outside the city limits. His city.

He prowled the streets of Beltrane at the witching hour, first in his human skin, then in his Felis form. Cats could travel a great many places that humans—or those posing as them—could not. It was a cold night, and Sebastian was grateful for his thick pelt as he padded soundlessly through the park.

Deep within the fifty acre oasis square in the middle of Beltrane, there was a monolithic bridge, one that seemed excessive for the dry riverbed it spanned. The water had dried up ages ago. As Sebastian approached the stone monstrosity, he saw with his cat-eyes that a group of homeless were huddled under its shelter. There was a metal can where they must’ve had a fire, but it had long since gone out. He sniffed the air, but caught no scent of danger. He made a mental note to come back another time, earlier in the evening, and tell the squatters about the shelter in the back rooms of Sanctuary.

Sebastian continued on, moving like a ghost through the manicured greenery, shrouded by night. He walked parallel to the main path, but stayed in the shadows, away from the streetlamps. He was headed to the south side to patrol, and cutting through the park was the quickest way to make it across town on foot. A familiar scent drifted to him upon the frigid breeze, causing Sebastian to freeze in his tracks. Noah.

Expanding his sight once again, Sebastian scanned the area around him with an almost three hundred and sixty degree periphery. Nothing moved, so he followed his nose along the path a few yards. He didn’t notice the lump on the park bench until he was nearly on top of it. While it was a common misconception that felines could see in thermal infrared, it was true for the Feliscindae—and they were probably the reason that rumor developed in the first place—but it wasn’t as keen or precise as their mechanical counterparts. Still, the more heat an object gave off, the better he could see it in his Felis form… which made it all the more distressing that he hadn’t seen Noah on that bench.

Sebastian leapt up onto the bench beside Noah, who was wrapped in a dirty wool blanket. The boy—no, young man now—didn’t stir, so Sebastian turned and flicked his tail back and forth across Noah’s face. Eventually Noah’s nose twitched, and his eyes opened sluggishly. They focused and widened when he saw the source of the tickle.

“Hey, you,” he said in a voice that was too weak and scratchy. His cold hand stroked Sebastian’s fur. “You couldn’t be the same cat…”

Sebastian sank down into the sphinx position, and butted his head against Noah’s chin.

“But somehow you are, aren’t you?”

Sebastian meowed, having no other way to answer.

“Freaky,” Noah mumbled, mostly to himself. “So yeah, things have gotten a little worse since we last saw each other, you know?”

Sebastian purred and snuggled closer.

“The good news is I found a dry place to keep my stuff. But it’s a crypt, so it’s too cold to sleep in. I’m better…” He trailed off with a shiver. “I’m better off in the open air.” His eyelids fluttered and closed.

His pallor was sickly, and Sebastian didn’t like the color of his lips. He knew he couldn’t save Noah, couldn’t give him a home with a snap of his fingers, but he sure as hell could keep him from freezing to death this night. He told himself, as he disappeared into the thick bioretention swale, that he was doing it because he needed to interrogate the guy about the Whisper Commune, and not because, inexplicably, Sebastian cared about him.

Hiding in the reeds, he allowed the change to take hold from prickles to pulls, from pain to relief once he stood his full human height. Unlike the Loupos, Feliscindae used their Magick to retain their clothing during the Change—the wolves loved running around in the nude for some reason—and at a time like this, it came in handy.

Returning to the bench, he scooped Noah up, dirty blanket and all. His eyes blinked open for a brief moment as he gazed up at Sebastian.

“Well look at you,” Noah said in a voice as thin as paper, before passing out cold.

Sebastian told himself it was easier that way. There would be fewer questions. Noah would wake up at Sanctuary, warm and safe, with food available. They could talk, and maybe Sebastian could find a way to anonymously help him.

[secretlystephaniebrown]

Time’s Running Out: Foxtrot

I’M BACK FROM THE WARS, AND IT’S TIME FOR THE CHAPTER I’VE BEEN WAITING TO SHARE WITH YOU GUYS FOR ALMOST A YEAR NOW!

Summary: The Reds and Blues; and their respective Freelancers, find themselves stranded on a strange planet named Chorus. Secrets, lies, and the unexpected seem to lie around every corner, and there might be even larger threats looming over the horizon.

They’re possibly even less ready for Chorus than Chorus is for them.

Pairings: Lots of friendships, Suckington, Yorkalina, Chex, eventual Yorkimbalina, possible others.

Start

Previous

Next

Ao3

The others were in danger.

Carolina’s heart hadn’t stopped racing since they’d intercepted the message. It was a simple message, text-based instead of radios.

Idiots on the move. Be ready.

All the messages from Control pounded in her head in time with her heart.

“If the Reds and Blues manage to reunite... Kill them.”

Epsilon wasn’t much better, filling her brain with a panicky static that made it hard to concentrate. She’d reprimand him, but she didn’t have to right now, with Texas behind the wheel. The two of them were racing, hoping to beat the others—York, Tucker, Grif, Simmons, Caboose, to the Federal Base.

“We should have gone to them,” Carolina whispered, gripping the warthog door hard enough that she heard the metal creak. The strange grenades they’d found had brought them close, but Epsilon’s calculations were off—he was calibrated for the previous generation—and they were still kilometers away from their final destination.

Tex didn’t say anything. She hadn’t said anything at all since she’d grabbed Carolina and thrown her into the passenger seat before she started driving.

“We’re not far,” Church said, finally projecting.

“Are we in time?” Tex demanded, not taking her eyes off the road. There was a single-minded lethality to her, coiled tightly like a spring, ready to lash out at a moment’s notice. If Carolina wasn’t similarly inclined, she might feel sorry for the pirates.

“Yeah,” Church said, and it was like a sigh of relief. Three sets of shoulders—two physical, one digital—slumped with relief. It was like a weight had been lifted from Carolina’s chest, and the fuzziness of Epsilon’s concern faded with a guilty tinge, indicating that he hadn’t realized he was doing it.

“Now what?” He asked.

“We kill them, that’s what,” Tex snarled, and for a moment, Carolina entertained that. Going in, guns blazing. Just… ending this. Killing the mercenaries, the pirates, destroying everything they could get their hands on. She played it out in her head—she’d go for Felix, he was fast might be able to hit Tex, while Tex would take Locus. The guys and Kai could take care of the others. It would be messy, but effective, she thought. They had the element of surprise; four Freelancers, a handful of Sim Troopers… surely they could handle anything Felix and Locus might have in store.

And then they’d have to wait for Control’s retaliation and reinforcements. Without a hint of more information than they already had.

“We can’t kill them yet,” Carolina said, her own voice far away to her ears. “We need a plan.”

Tex scoffed. “You always want to let them live, don’t you?”

Carolina swiveled her head. “Don’t you bring that up,” she snapped. “Not now!”

Tex slammed down on the brakes, bringing the warthog to a screeching halt. Carolina’s body fell forward slightly at the sudden change in momentum, and she spun to face Tex completely, snarling. “Then what’s your plan, Carolina? Tell me!” Tex’s helmet was close to hers, and Carolina shoved her back.

“We cloak. We infiltrate. We get answers. And when they try to kill the others, that’s when we make our move. After we figure out what’s going on, so that way we know how to stop it.”

Texas stared at her for a long, long time. Then she reached down, and switched gears.

“If any of them get hurt…” Texas said. She didn’t vocalize the threat, but it was there. It was rare for Texas to be like this, Carolina realized. But they were there now, and she didn’t like it one bit.  

“I care about them too, Texas,” Carolina snapped. “But there’s more than that at stake! We need to know what Control is planning!”

Texas said nothing more, just kept driving.

Once they arrived at the base, it didn’t take long to find a stragler pirate and jump him so that she could take his place. And if Texas snapped his neck with more force than necessary, Carolina didn’t say anything.

She kept to the back of the pirates, who were mostly just waiting around for Locus’s signal, while Texas scouted ahead, looking for the others.

Locus appeared suddenly, decloaking in a way that Carolina should be used to by now, having seen Texas do the same thing countless times. But she wasn’t used to it with an enemy. And it had been a long time now, she realized, glancing at the corner of her HUD dedicated to keeping track of Tex’s location, since Tex had registered as the enemy.

“Get ready to move,” Locus ordered, and Carolina had to stop herself from staring. He was one of the tallest men she’d ever seen; taller than anyone besides Maine, she thought, and broad. He was built for power, for intimidation. He radiated danger; from the strange Locus helmet, to the weapons he carried, to the manner in which he walked, each one deliberately chosen. She understood all the pirates’ chatter now.

<Are you seriously thinking about wanting to spar with him?> Church shrieked in her mind. <He’s the enemy Cee! Jesus you’re an adrenaline junkie.>

Carolina said nothing, but she couldn’t deny him that.

She stood on the platform above the others. Her laser sight was set on York, who was holding his rifle, staring right at Locus. Next to him, Wash tried to step between Locus and Kai and Tucker, but Tucker wasn’t having any of that, and pushing against him. Grif was on Kai’s other side, also trying to stay between her and the threat, but there was a red laser sight in the center of Kai’s helmet.

As far as they could tell, they were totally trapped.

“I told you, Agent Washington,” Locus said, and Carolina sighed, hoping they’d get actual information instead of just melodrama. “I am a professional. I complete my missions at all costs. But you, and your comrades have put a blemish on my record. This… is unacceptable.”

Wash snarled, not moving from his position in front of Tucker and Kai. “What are you talking about? You just killed the men you're working for!”

Locus let out a sigh. Carolina tilted her head to herself, wondering what this was about. Had Locus and Wash been talking before this? “It appears you don’t understand after all. Unfortunate. You were such a fascinating soldier, Agent Washington.”

He raised his sniper rifle, and for a moment, Carolina panicked, thinking she’d miscalculated, that she wasn’t going to get answers, and Wash was going to die. The glimmer that was Tex shifted too, preparing to leap into action. But it all proved unnecessary, as Felix appeared, and his shield appeared in a flash of light, blocking the bullet.

“Tucker, grenade!” Felix shouted, and Carolina went cold, watching as Felix went through the motions of betrayal. He was twisted, she realized. He was enjoying this, all of this. Locus was a professional mercenary. But Felix? Felix was having fun, playing these games, taunting the others with the way he’d betrayed them, with how he’d earned their trust.

“Stop boasting and let me kill them,” Locus interrupted, his voice tight with anger. “We have a job to do.”

“Oooh,” Felix said with a laugh, “that’s right, he doesn’t like you guys.” He paused to snort. “He actually thinks there might be a few fighters among you. Ha! Told you he’s crazy.”

<Good to know who’s the brains in the operation,> Church whispered to her. Carolina couldn’t help the smile that played at the corner of her mouth.

“But why?” Wash demanded. “Why the capture, why make us part of this war?”

<Thank you, Washington.>

“Well, you see—” Felix began, and Carolina had to force herself to not stand up straighter. Answers.

“Felix!”

“No!” Felix snapped, spinning back to face Locus. “I've had to put up with these morons every day, so you let me have this.” Then he relaxed again, turning to face Wash and the others. “You see, someone, somewhere, out in our galaxy, has their eye set on this planet. The only problem, is the inhabitants.” Carolina couldn’t stop her breath from hitching. This was bigger than they’d thought. Below, Felix continued talking, unaware that he was so close to Tex. “Now, if it were up to me, I’d just nuke this place from orbit. But our employer… has other ideas. We have to play this thing carefully, you understand? If an entire planet dies overnight, well, people ask questions. But if you stumble onto this rock and find that the settlers killed each other, well, that's just a tragedy!”

“Fuck,” Tex breathed in Carolina’s ear via the radio.

“It was you. You started this war!” Tucker said, incredulous.

Felix laughed and made a loud, obnoxious noise. “Wroooooong! These people hated each other way before our operation ever showed up, we just had to keep the hate train a-goin’. And let me tell you, you guys have helped so much.”

There was a moment where all of them soaked that in.

“Does it hurt? Knowing just how much death you've brought to this planet?” Felix mocked. And okay, Carolina could see the appeal of Tex’s argument of “just killing him”.

Suddenly, York let out a load groan, his head falling back to face the sky. “Seriously?” Carolina froze, fingering the pin on the grenade. What’s he doing? “That’s how you two decided to spend your time after retiring? Genocide? Jesus, I told India you two were headcases.”

“What?” Tex whispered.

He knew them? What was going on?

“Stop whining because you didn’t see it coming, Foxtrot,” Felix said, the smirk in his voice obvious. Carolina drew to a halt. She knew that name, York had told her it once, long ago, told him it was the only name he had besides York worth mentioning—but how did Felix know that name.

“Foxtrot? York, are they talking about you?” Donut asked.

The shock that Carolina and Tex were feeling right now was suddenly transferred to Locus and Felix, judging by the body language. York—the worst liar she had ever met—had managed to hide the fact that he was a Freelancer from them. A surge of warmth hit her chest for a moment, overpowering her confusion and fear temporarily.

“York?” Felix asked, voice dangerously low.

“As in New York,” York said, spreading his hands out wide “As in Agent New York. As in, formerly of Project Freelancer.”

Felix and Locus exchanged a dark, dangerous look.

“Oh that’s it,” Felix snarled. “You die last.”

“Not likely,” York said. “You remember Captain India, right?”

“Enough talk,” Locus said. “On my mark—”

“She always said I had one gift,” York said loudly. “Remember what it was?”

“Being an idiot who won’t shut up?”

“I know you are but what am I—no, it was find the most dangerous women in the room and get them to like me.” Suddenly, he was looking right at her, tilting his helmet to one side. “Hey Carolina. Hey Tex.”

Everything fell apart after that, and Carolina threw the grenade, spinning into action, ignoring the thundering question in her head as the fight ensued.

How did York know them?

They had escaped.

The two mysterious soldiers, the Reds and Blues, Agent Washington…

And Foxtrot Twelve.

“An Agent?” Felix snarled. “Him? That idiot?”

“You said he was under control,” Locus snarled.

“He was! I had him eating out of my hand! The old war buddies thing was working!” Felix snapped.

Locus paused, considering. “Could they be lying?” A little subterfuge to buy them time would make sense. Made more sense than a coward like Foxtrot as a Freelancer. The Freelancers were elite soldiers. And they were almost completely dead.

“Foxtrot can’t lie,” Felix snapped.

“We thought he was dead. Then we thought he’d been posing as a simulation trooper to escape the war,” Locus said. “And now he’s a Freelancer. It might be time to re-evaluate him.”

Felix scoffed again. “He’s still not a threat.”

Felix never had taken Foxtrot seriously. But Locus did, for one simple reason.

Foxtrot was many things, but forgetful was not one of them. And in his mind he held one vital piece of information. One that could potential destroy himself and Felix.

It had been a long time since Locus had used any name other than that of his armor.

But Foxtrot—or Agent York, or Private Harris, or whichever other names he was using—knew it. And for that, before anything else, he would die.

The reunion celebrations could only last so long, York knew. So he stood to the edge, watching fondly as Tex pressed her helmet against Church’s, as Kai tried to tackle Carolina in a hug, as Tucker and Wash clung to each other, like they were planning on never letting go.

York watched, and waited.

<York,> Delta said softly.

“I have this coming, Dee,” York said.

Carolina tilted her helmet at him. “Why did Felix know your old nickname?”

“Codename,” Tex corrected, and oh shit, that’s right, she’d know that. He’d told Tex that, back when it had just been the two of them. Carolina only knew the name, but Tex had a few more clues.

York raised and lowered his shoulders in a shrug. “Because that’s what I was going by when I met him.”

“Wait,” Tucker said. “You knew him?”

Tucker wasn’t going to forgive this, York realized. He’d think that York had known… that’d he’d known what Felix was. What he was capable of.

And maybe he was right. Maybe York should have known.

“I didn’t know he’d kill a planet!” York defended himself. “He—look he was fucked up, but it was the “have way too much fun killing aliens” kind of fucked up, not genocide!”

“Why did you have a codename?” Donut said. Then he let out a gasp. “Wait, were you a secret agent? Like Double-Oh-Donut?”

York laughed, tiredly. “Hardly.” He shook his head, trying to figure out how to explain this. “I was always good with locks, right? So one day I get dragged into this room and they tell me that humanity needs me, I have potential, all that normal stuff. I sign on the dotted line, they fake my death, business as usual.”

Tex tilted her head. “Just how many times have you faked your death, York?” York thought he detected a note of humor there. Maybe he wasn’t a dead man after all.  

“Five,” Delta said. “Counting the time with your assistance.”

“My best one, I’d say,” York said, going for a joke.

“Keep. Talking,” Carolina ordered. There was no humor there.

“I was the twelfth infiltration specialist. The twelfth Foxtrot,” York said. He grinned, wryly. “Longest lived one, too. Doubled the last girl’s record. It was black ops,” he added. “It was dirty, it was nasty, it was necessary. We… I did things I wasn’t proud of. And at some point we were shorthanded, and Sierra said he knew a couple of guys who were the best at what they did.”

“Only one guess for the names,” Sarge grunted.

“They’d been on the bounty hunter circuit after their tour ended,” York said. “Already had code-names and everything. India hired them, let them keep the names because they were new positions. We needed more people than we’d ever needed before. Things were… rough, those years. The Insurrection—the real one—was getting out of hand. People were dying in the colonies, and there were sympathizers high up in the government. It… it wasn’t what I signed up for.”

Coward, Sierra’s voice whispered in his ear.

“I asked for an out. I got one. Project Freelancer. No more moral greys. The good guys.” York laughed. “Faked my death again. As far as Felix and Locus were concerned, I came back from the dead when they found me in that ship.”

“And you didn’t tell them you were a Freelancer?” Simmons asked.

“Are you kidding?” York snorted. “Even before, he would have sold out Delta and me for a couple of quarters and a bottlecap. And he said that Locus had jumped off the deep end after I died. I didn’t realize they were still in touch.”

He should have. God, he should have. He’d seen the way that they’d been, back then. He’d bought it. He’d bought it hook, line, and sinker. Sure, he hadn’t given them everything, but he hadn’t… he hadn’t…

“And you didn’t tell Kimball?” Tucker yelled.

“She was signing his paychecks!” York yelled back. “Felix doesn’t turn on his employer! Not—not unless there’s a bigger one.” York’s shoulders slumped at that. “I didn’t realize he was double dealing.”

Tucker didn’t say anything else. York was pretty sure he just wanted to punch him again.

York couldn’t exactly argue with that.

<You could not have known,> Delta said, trying to comfort him.

Tex walked up to him and nudged him with her shoulder. “Anything else?”

“Not unless you want me to tell you the way Felix used to gut Sanghelli kids,” York muttered, carefully not looking at Tucker.

“Let’s skip that,” Tex said. She nudged him again, and this time, York let himself nudge back. “I’m glad you’re okay, dumbass,” she muttered.

York forced himself to smile. “Tucker said you guys went looking for me.”

“Yeah,” Tex said. “I told you. I’ve put way too much effort into keeping you alive to let you just go and get killed now.”

York rubbed his visor tiredly. “I got lucky,” he said. “I’m pretty sure if I hadn’t literally ran into Palomo, I’d have had a bullet through my head before Felix and Locus even realized who I was.”

Tex gripped his shoulder tight enough to hurt.

“They killed the others, Tex,” York said. “I—there were sixteen of us. Only three of us made it.”

Tex punched him suddenly, and York went sprawling. “Hey!”

“Stop that,” Tex ordered. It was only then that York realized the others were gone. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I—”

“You know there’s nothing you could have done,” Tex said. “You didn’t know they were genocidal fuckers, you didn’t know that Locus would kill those people, and you didn’t know about Freelancer.”

“Didn’t I?” York said quietly. “Tex. I know what I did.”

Tex’s helmeted gaze was unwavering. “You judging me too, York? I’m the one who blew up that building, remember?”

“You act like that was my first time,” York said, pulling himself up so that he was at least sitting.

“Don’t joke about this, York, I’m not in the mood—”

“I’m not a good person, Tex,” York snapped. “I want to be—fuck, I want to be, but I’m not. Freelancer was supposed to be that chance. To make up for what I did. And look at where that landed me!”

Tex let out a loud sigh, and held out her hand.

“On a planet, where your former teammates are trying to kill everyone, and you’ve got a chance to stop them,” she said. Her voice was braided steel. “There’s your chance, York. So stop feeling sorry for yourself and fight.”

There was a long moment where York looked up at her.

Then he took her hand, and let her pull him to his feet.

[s-w-s-h]

Blood Will Out

The blood drained from Jacob’s face. Was she - she couldn’t -

… Could she?

As he listened to Mary talk, about the British Men of Letters and the vampires, he realised - she could. Mary Winchester could stand there and brag about genocide as if it was nothing. As if he and his kind were nothing.

Monsters didn’t deserve to live.

“… You’re talking about genocide.”

The words came from Claire, not Jacob, and he turned to see her just as white-faced as he probably was.

“They’re monsters, Claire,” Mary dismissed, “We’re talking about the end of hunting here.”

“No, actually, we’re talking about genocide!” Claire gestured fruitlessly, trying to convey the depth of her horror. “They’re sentient beings!”

“They’re not human!”

“Sentient! Beings! We’re not - African warlords or something who go around slaughtering people who don’t look or act like us!”

Mary scoffed. “What kind of comparison is that? They’re the ones slaughtering innocent people - are you gonna tell me scum like that doesn’t deserve death?”

“That’s not the point!” Claire cried, “This isn’t justice!”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure the innocent women and children in Africa feel justice -“

“We have the fucking Hague!” Claire spat, “We have the International Criminal Court, we have the fucking Geneva Conventions, the UN, because we’re not monsters and we won’t stoop to their level.” Her eyes blazed like miniature stars. “We give people a fair trial. We hold them accountable. We do not senselessly murder them on the basis of what they might be, and not what they’ve done!”

It’s not what you are, but what you do that matters.

Claire’s voice was shrill and piercing by the end of it, but all Jacob could think of was a teenage vampire he’d met in Chicago, Nithin. Dark-skinned, gangly Nithin, who sent him shitty Bollywood videos at 2 AM and even shittier memes at 4, whose sharp fangs had never once pierced human flesh, who watched trashy vampire movies like Twilight just to complain about what they got wrong.

It’s not what you are, but what you do that matters.

Nithin was going to be his roommate at Northwestern. They’d filled out the paperwork and everything.

Except, now he wouldn’t, because in this reality, Nithin was dead.

Murdered.

For what he was, not anything that he’d done.

Sam was wrong.

“… I don’t understand,” Jacob said, voice so small in his own ears that he wondered if anyone would hear him, “We’re - we’re family, aren’t we?”

“Wait,” he blurted out, “Does this mean I can call you ‘grandma?’”

Mary’s eyes were flinty, and Claire was shaking with fury. Jacob was selfishly, selfishly glad that Jesse wasn’t around, because God, Jesse was just a kid, and his heart was softer than all of theirs, and if this hurt Jacob so much he couldn’t breathe, then how much more would it hurt Jesse?

“I don’t understand,” Jacob repeated, feeling lost and hurt and confused, “‘Cause I’m a ‘monster,’ too.”

Mary looked conflicted for a moment. “Look, kid… I get it, you haven’t hurt anyone. And that’s great. But can you speak for every other monster out there?”

“I can speak for those of us who try!” Jacob said hotly, “Some of us have never hurt another person and just want to be left alone!”

“That’s all well and good,” Mary said, lips pressing in a thin line for a moment, “But can you say for sure that you never will?”

Jacob’s jaw dropped in horror.

“Look…” Mary sighed briefly, a worn expression flickering across her face. “I’m sorry to be so blunt, but even you’re thinking it - blood will out.”

Claire and Jacob found themselves speechless.

“Blood will out?” A soft voice repeated.

Claire and Jacob swore in unison, and all three of them turned to see Ben and Jesse standing in the doorway, faces grim.

“Jesse, honey -“

“Ben, get him out of here -“

“No.” Jesse cut Claire and Jacob off, moving into the room. “I want to hear this. Blood will out - do you really believe that, Mrs. Winchester?”

The formal reference struck Mary as wrong, but nodded curtly and crossed her arms. “History has proven it time and time again.”

Jesse nodded, almost thoughtful. “I see.” His gaze turned sharp and incisive. “What about Sam’s blood?”

Mary’s brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“Sam’s blood,” Jesse repeated evenly, “Or rather, the blood in Sam.” Jesse’s expression turned vicious. “Azazel’s blood.”

Mary rocked back on her heels, the memory of her last night on Earth - or what was supposed to be her last night, anyway - flashing through her mind. Azazel making a fist over Sam’s mouth, dripping down dark red blood -

Sweeter than mother’s milk

- before she was slammed against the wall, sliding up and -

“What does that have to do with anything?” she snapped harshly, forcing the memory away.

“Do you know what the blood did to him?” Jesse asked curiously, “It’s an open secret amongst hunters by this point, I think. The demon blood changed him, gave him powers. It made him into Lucifer’s perfect vessel.”

Mary paled.

“They called him a monster, too,” Jesse continued ruthlessly, and Mary could swear that the shadows in the corners of the room flickered. “Your fellow hunters hunted him - would you have joined them?”

“Wha - of course not!” Mary replied, aghast.

“Really? But he was different.” Cruelty looked wrong on such a young face. “Unnatural. Everything the people you’re in bed with want to exterminate.”

“That’s enough!” Mary shook her head, hands clenched into fists to keep them from trembling. “Sam isn’t a monster!”

“At least we can agree on that,” Ben sneered under his breath.

“He is to them!” Jesse retorted fiercely, “I don’t care what you think about us, but Sam - Sam is who you’re trying to kill!”

Mary’s eyes flashed, but before she could respond, Ben commented, “You know, maybe Dean would be a better example.”

Mary narrowed her eyes.

Ben shot her a nasty smile, voice dripping with venom. “Oh yeah. Sam may be psychic, but Dean? Oh, your little boy’s been around the block - vampire, demon - you gonna exterminate him, too?”

“What are you talking about?!”

“He got himself turned into a vampire a couple years ago,” Ben answered, eyes glittering with malice. “Stood outside my bedroom until Mom finally kicked him to the curb. And then - and you’re going to love this - he got himself a Murder Stamp from Cain himself and turned into a demon, black eyes and all. Knight of Hell, actually, which should tell you exactly what he was.”

“Sam cured him,” Claire picked up, shooting Ben a warning glance. “In fact, the vampire cure came from your family.”

Mary’s mouth pressed in a thin line and they could practically hear her teeth grinding against each other. “Is that your plan? Go around the country curing monsters?”

“If that’s what it takes! We have the knowledge, we have the resources!” Claire gestured to them all, “We save people, not slaughter them! We find a better way, and this black-and-white racist bullshit isn’t it!”

“So, what?” Mary snapped, “You want to let monsters roam free on the chance that some of them might play nice?”

“They will,” Jacob protested immediately, “I know plenty of them!”

“Don’t be so naive, sometimes you have to put the needs of the many -“

“My family is not collateral damage!”

There was a ringing silence following Claire’s pained cry, and the teen swore softly, raising a trembling hand to rub at her wet eyes.

Mary’s expression creased in regret, and she reached out hesitantly. “… Claire…”

“Don’t,” Jacob growled lowly. He rubbed a hand down Claire’s back soothingly, his sharp glare warding Mary off.

Claire choked back her tears, wiping her eyes dry. “My family isn’t collateral damage,” she repeated, softer, but no less fervent. “And neither should be yours. Not Jake, not Jesse, not Sam.”

“Can you really look him in the face and do this?” Jesse pressed quietly, “They will hunt him. They’ve already tortured him. They will hunt people like him, people just as kind and good, who are trying to make the world a better place, no matter the cards life deals them. People with families who love them and depend on them - just as much as Sam loves you.”

“Are you going to sacrifice them, too?” Ben asked, standing behind Jesse like a guardian. “Where are you going to draw the line? White witches? Wiccans? What gives you the right who in the supernatural world gets to live and who dies?”

Faced with four teenagers, fierce and hurt and angry, with traces of Sam shining out of their eyes, Mary had no answer.

[fell-in-love-didnt-you]

Choose Me (Part 2): SnowBaz Fanfic

Here is Part 2!

Baz is fumbling around the room when I wake up. It’s a Saturday, so he’s probably going home with his mom or something. His family’s got a lot of property in England, so it’s not unusual that he’s gone for holidays and weekends. And his mom was the Headmistress of Watford about a decade ago. She was a strict one from what I’ve heard, but the alums of Watford tell me they loved her a lot. The alums come back periodically and talk to the first years. Honestly, they need all the encouragement they can get. I remember needing that.

I look over and see him hurriedly packing a small bag. I sit up in my bed and frown over at him, asking, “Why the rush? Last minute trip home or something?”

Baz looks over at me with a curious look in his eyes, and if I knew any better, I’d say he was thinking long and hard about something. “Is everything alright, Baz?” I ask, standing from my bed and beginning to walk over to him. “You look a bit like a deer in the headlights.”

He shakes his head and continues letting things fly out from his wardrobe, throwing them onto his bed and turning only when he had a sweater in his hands. He shoves it roughly into his bag and ran into the bathroom, and I hear the clamor of him throwing around soaps, toothpastes, and other toiletries.

“Baz?” I call out, now actually worried. He is usually so silent and reserved that seeing him like this makes me actually scared. “Baz?” I ask again, and he flies out of the bathroom with an armload of soaps and other necessities that he brought here this year. “Baz, what the hell?” I finally snap, and he looks over at me wildly.

“I’m leaving,” he says, and his voice isn’t faltering whatsoever. I furrow my brows, and he says, “I’m leaving Watford.” The realization hits like a ton of bricks.

“What?” I ask, actually stunned and confused. “What do you mean you’re leaving Watford? Are you just going home for the weekend or some shit?” He shakes his head and continues the shove things into his bag. I grab his bag away, which forces him to look me in the eyes. “Answer me.”

He takes a moment to actually start to reply, and when he does, his voice is going thousands of miles a minute. “The Humdrum is coming after me and the Mage is sending me away and I don’t know where I’m supposed to go but I’ll be alone and I don’t know what to do at the moment so I’m just packing everything so the Humdrum doesn’t come here and kill everyone because then it would be all my fault and I need to stop this before it even really starts and I can’t be responsible for the deaths of all of these people and it would just be so much better if he killed me instead.”

When he stops, I vaguely realize that I’ve dropped his bag and let it crash to the floor. The Humdrum is coming for him, and the Mage is sending him away. I’ve never liked the Mage in all my time being here, but now I detest him. Sending Baz away would be the worst solution to his problem. Sending Baz away would cause so many things to go wrong, including stupid shit with me.

“You’re not leaving,” I finally say. Baz immediately starts to protest, but I interrupt and say, “Fuck no! You’re not going to leave. If the Humdrum comes here, he comes here! If he tries to kill you, we stop him! You leaving won’t prevent anything that’s about to unfold, alright? So just sit the hell down, unpack you shit, and we’ll figure this out!”

Baz sits down, looking up at me like a curious child. I turn away to prevent him from seeing me visibly upset. The Mage would be such an idiot for sending him away. It’s as if he doesn’t realize that that does nothing in the case of preventing a mass genocide. Plus, it’s so close to Christmas break that even I know if the Humdrum came, he’d do it when he most certainly thought Baz would be alone and at a place he loved.

I hear rummaging behind me, and I turn to see Baz picking things off the floor, unpacking his bag, and placing things in his wardrobe. He turns and looks at me, a grave look crossing his face for a split second before he looks to the floor. “He could kill people,” he says. “He could kill a lot of people, or he could just kill me.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I counter, walking over to directly in front of him. “That’s not going to happen because you have people here who will stop it from happening, so stop thinking about it. If you go in with the mindset that you’re going to die, you’ll die.” He’s staring up at me like I’m speaking Egyptian. “Do you understand?” I ask.

“You don’t know shit,” he mutters and looks down. Then he raises his eyes up at me and says, “But I’m choosing to believe you for the time being.”

I smile at him even though I think I’m reassuring myself more than him. “Everything’s going to be fine,” I say, and my voice has become less believable than it used to be. I place my hands on his shoulders and smooth out the already smooth collar there. I fidget. It’s what I do when I’m nervous. I have a small, circular necklace with a couple loops of a bike chain on it, and I just fidget with it when I’m nervous. I think Baz has seen me do that because he seems to be okay with me touching him.

“You do that,” he says, and I snap my head up from the collar of his shirt. “You touch things when you get angsty. It’s a Simon-esque thing to do, honestly.”

“I assume that means you’ve been watching me then,” I say, and I think I’ve made him uncomfortable. He looks away and flushes a bright red. “That was supposed to be a joke, Baz,” I say. He smiles just a bit, still not looking at me, but, hey, he’s smiling, and I did that.

“Okay,” I finally say, “what’s our game plan?” I go back and sit on my bed, looking over at Baz biting his lip and turning around. He’s got his hands on his hips, and he reminds me vividly of a nurse at one of the orphanages I used to go to. Of course, I spend my summers with Penny, and I have been for the past seven years, so I haven’t seen this nurse since I was little. But right now, Baz looks just like her. She would shake her head at me and bit her lip when she knew she had to punish me for getting into another fight. In reality, she knew I was pretty pathetic and got picked on, so I never was punished.

“I hadn’t thought of one,” he responds, dragging me out of my head. “I’d figured that I’d come up with something while I was on my way out. Honestly, that’s been my strategy for so long now that I can’t remember forming a coherent plan for the simple things.”

Baz looks over at me in that way that can make someone blush to the tips of their ears. I try not to, but I can feel them heating up immediately. I look down at the floor and tap my feet because I don’t have my necklace on, and this is the next best thing.

“We could wing it,” he says, and I laugh heartily. He looks over at me, and that makes me laugh even more.

“You can’t ‘wing it’ with a supervillain!” I say, still laughing, and this time he joins in. We’re both reduced to clutching at our stomachs until I find some composure and say, “Look, we actually do need a plan. I don’t want to walk into a situation like this like a blind mouse. Think about your past encounters. Think about things he’s done, what he’s said. Anything can help at this point.”

Baz is quiet for a long while. I think I’ve upset him until he turns around and says, “He once said that he was what was left after I was done.” I cock my head to the side, and Baz says, “I think he means when I go off, you know? I’m about to get beaten up, I buzz and buzz and buzz until I explode. I’m anxious about anything, and I can only wait until I burst. I’m like a ticking time-bomb.”

I want to say, “You’re not a ticking time-bomb, Baz.” Instead, I say, “Is it possible that he means he’s a lot of magic? Like, a mass of magic?”

Baz shakes his head and says, “If he were, I think he would have come for me by now. After I explode, I’m practically drained, so if he’s a mass of magic, it’s too easy for him to get me.”

I sit on my bed and chew my lip then. Damn. Baz has thought about this more than I have. Granted, I’ve only been thinking about this specific subject for about ten minutes, but I would still like to impress him with some great inquiry.

Then, I say, “So what if he’s that?” and Baz looks at me again like I’m speaking Egyptian. “What if he’s the drain that you feel like after going off? Wouldn’t that make sense?”

Baz nods to himself, like he’s thinking about something intently even though I’m probably wrong, and he begins to pick up more clothes. I’ve noticed this about him. He does things when he’s thinking. He taps his pencil during tests, rubs his fingers together before casting a spell, and paces when he’s thinking. I’ve spent too many hours watching him to know this, but I do, and now it’s useful…Somewhat.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he says, hanging a school jumper in his side of the wardrobe. “Perhaps he’s like a hole.”

“What do you do to fix a hole, though?” I ask him, and he turns to me with a snarky expression.

“You fill it,” he replies, and I smirk a little at that. He puts his face in his hands and says, “I didn’t mean it like that, pervert.”

“I know,” I say though little snorts. He looks over at me, unconvinced, but then he begins to show me one of his rare smiles, and I feel the tips of my ears heating again. I don’t look away this time because Baz’s smile is something you miss if you blink. It’s like looking at a super moon. If the clouds block it or you decide not to look out of your window in the twelve hours of nighttime you have, then you miss it, and it’s gone for a long while. I wonder if that’s what it’s like to be Baz: having the moon and all the stars in your pocket and heart.

“You think too much,” he tells me, once again dragging me back to reality. He’s looking at me skeptically, and I smirk, which I think makes him blush because he turns around very quickly and starts to fold even more clothes and hang even more shirts.

“Okay,” I say, flopping down onto the mattress loudly, “let’s start planning.”

Baz huffs, and maybe it’s a bit indignant, but it makes me smile to the ceiling anyway. “Okay,” he tells me, and I hear him flop down on his bed. “Okay…”

Planning…with Simon Snow…not how my Saturday was supposed to go.

I guess walking around the room like I had ten pound weights in my shoes early in the morning was not a stealthy exit on my part. Simon didn’t let me go, however, and I know I should be upset. I think somewhere in my subconscious I am angry at him, but the anger hasn’t even risen to the surface. All I can do is wait while he’s getting food.

Simon just…confuses me, honestly. I remember the obscure rumor from a few years ago, when he showed up without a summer’s tan. Someone had begun to say that he was a vampire, and it was laughable at best. Since then, Simon’s only gotten more freckles and tans.

Everything he does makes me question if the ulterior motive the Families told me he has is even real. Simon doesn’t seem like the type to go around plotting grand schemes that would literally involve the death of someone he’s in direct contact with. And if he did, I’d have been dead years ago. He would’ve found a way to kill me for whatever sick purpose he wants to.

Another thing about Simon is that he is always so off around me. I see him with Penny, who is literally a walking textbook, except she’s actually interesting. I’ve sat next to her in a few previous classes, and she is extremely funny and charismatic. I think it was a shame for the straight guys here when she got picked up by that American fellow she mentioned to me once. Anyway, when Simon’s with her, his shoulders aren’t as solid as they are when he’s with me, and even when he’s with his football teammates, he seems to be more at ease than with me.

I’m not going to snap his head off or anything like that.

The door to the room open, and I turn on my bed to see, not Simon, but the Mage. I furrow my eyebrows over at him, and rise into a sitting position on my bed. He looks…livid. At who or what, I can’t tell, but he is striding into the room with purpose. He almost reminds me of a bull that’s been flashed a red cape, but the Mage isn’t that animalistic, right?

“Baz,” he says when he reaches my bed, and he, I swear to Merlin, curls his fist around the collar of my shirt and begins to drag me. As I fall off the bed, I hit my bedside table, and my wand falls to the floor. I hurriedly pick it up and tuck it into my sleeve, unsure of what’s going on. The way the Mage is holding me is choking me, and I’m trying to call out as I’m dragged down the stairs of Mummer’s. I claw at the shirt collar and give myself a small enough gap to suck in a large breath and begin to scream.

As the first burst of noise escapes my lungs, I’m clubbed in the back of the head by something hard, and my face falls forward, cutting off my throat from breathing. Black dots invade my vision, but I will my stone-like hands to grip the collar of my shirt and tugs. After a few ragged breaths, I can see that he’s teleported us elsewhere. Somewhere dark and surrounded by woods. Somewhere where I can feel the magic drain from me. Somewhere I stole the magic from.

I’m dropped to the ground in a pile, and I take larger and longer breaths, heaving on the ground as I rub my hand over my throat. I look over to the Mage, but he’s not looking at me. He’s looking into the woods facing the way we were headed, and it seems as though he’s searching for someone. His eyes are scanning the tree line, and when a branch snaps in the opposite direction, both of our heads snap that way.

Standing, cloaked in moonlight, is a pale and small figure. He looks to be a boy with pitch black hair, and three realizations hit me hard. The Humdrum is here, there is no magic, and the Mage took me here. The Humdrum steps out of his halo of light, and before my eyes can catch him, I can hear his dark chuckle coming from behind me.

I whip my head around so fast that I hear it crack in several places, and the burn from my shirt collar starts to demand attention. The Humdrum is sitting in the branches of a tree, holding the book I wouldn’t let go when I was eleven and my mother passed. That book is what kept me from going insane, and whether the insanity would’ve been brought on by Simon bouncing his red ball or the waves of despair that were hitting me, that book still kept me grounded. He shouldn’t have that. Not when he wants to kill me and do Merlin knows what to the rest of the magical world.

“You shouldn’t have that,” I manage with the dry, stickiness of the air crawling through my throat and into my lungs. “You shouldn’t look like that.”

“But I do,” he replies cynically, and the worst part is that that is how I sounded when I was that young. “I have what you left me with. I’m what’s here when you’re done. Can’t you see?”

I look to the Mage, and he’s not smiling, but the ferociousness that he entered my room with is also not there when he looks at the Humdrum. There’s no knight in shining armor look in his eyes like he’s going to save me. He has the cold eyes of someone sentencing me to my death. He’s my executioner.

“What the hell is going on?” I yell at him, and he looks don at me on the ground. The look in his eyes tells me more than I actually want to know. It reads pity. It tells me that I am pathetic for fighting whatever is about to happen, at least in his eyes.

“It’s actually quite convenient that your Mage and I want the same thing, you know?” the Humdrum interrupts, drawing me back to him. “It was easy enough to convince him that you needed to be here.” He hops with unhuman like agility to the ground from the high trees and races towards the Mage. He stops within a finger’s reach.

“But he’s done, and I don’t like the phrase of ‘Don’t kill the messenger.’” Without flinching, without even thinking about it, he presses his finger to the Mage’s stomach, and I see the Mage’s face twist in agony before he falls to the ground. He goes still after I listen to a minute of him groaning, and I crawl over to him.

His face is pale, eyes open and looking up at the stars. I begin to cry, and they’re probably both tears of sadness and fear. Sadness in the upsetting fact that the only person who ever tried to steer me toward what I thought was the good path is now dead, and fear in the fact that that person led me here, and now I am facing his killer all alone.

“What did you do?” I asked the Humdrum, looking up through my watery eyes and seeing his flickering image.

I can tell he smiles because of the way he says, “I gave him some of my nothing. I gave him what’s left when you’re done.” Then the Humdrum cackles. Like, he throws his head back and bellows with laughter up towards the sky. I cling to the Mage’s limp body, say a curse to him in whatever afterlife he had gone to, and drop his head to the ground.

The itching in my throat is growing, but it’s now being countered with the glowing sphere I can feel in the center of my body. I’m about to go off. I’m about to go off, and I don’t even know if I can. I slip my wand from me sleeve, feel its weight in my hand, and clench my fist tightly around it.

“Where are we?” I ask. The humdrum hadn’t noticed me standing, and he now looks up at me with surprise. It’s quickly replaced with cockiness, and he easily replies.

“We’re where you were the first time it happened.” I furrow my eyebrows down at him, but he laughs and says, “Think hard, Baz. You and I know. I’m what’s left when you’re done.”

This realization isn’t earth-shattering. I know exactly where we are. The day my mother died on a routine trip to scope out a rogue vampire’s nest, she was killed. I was told in the living room of my house, and I ran as far away as I could from everything there. I ran straight into the woods, and I blew up. I went off. My magic had been appearing a little late, but this was the first time I ever felt it like a fire coursing through me. Deep in these woods, I felt the itchiness at the back of my throat that I feel right now.

“Fuck you,” I say to the Humdrum, and I bolt in the opposite direction. I can’t cast my magic where we are. I have to get out of this clearing. I have to run for as long as I can and find the edge of here. I hear the Humdrum, quicker than I am, and he’s in front of me. Trapping me.

“It’s not nice to use such language, Baz,” he says in a condescending voice. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”

That comment is enough to send me over the edge. I grab the Humdrum by the shoulders, my eleven-year-old self’s shoulders, and shake him as I feel the glow in my chest become a blazing fire. Just before I can yell at him, I spill over the edge and pour my magic out.

I fly backwards and hit a tree hard. There’s a loud sound, and I sit at the base of the tree as I see a burning forest around me. Without moving, I can feel the excruciating pain of broken bones and bleeding wounds. My head is pulsating, and my ears pop. I hear the roar of the fire all around me, and the smoke is filling my lungs. It smells so nice. I’ve been a pyromaniac since I can remember, but this is different. I can feel the thick smoke overcoming me. It’s the only thing I smell. A tree branch falls to my left as the black dots invade my vision once more. Somewhere in front of me, the Mage’s body is burning. I can somewhat smell his burning flesh at one point, but it’s quickly washed away by the smoke.

There’s noise all around me: the roaring fire, my own groans of pain, and somewhere in the distance I can hear yelling. I’m trying to move myself to crawl on the ground. I’m crawling away from the clearing. Somewhere in front of me, I can see light. The smoke is still filling my lungs, and the noise is still suffocating me, but I can hear my mom’s voice. Her voice is sweet, and I can hear her calling out for me. It’s so, so tempting. I could reach out my hand and be with her. I could just have this be over. No pain. No being followed. I could just…could just…

My head falls against the ground, and my arms falls as well. All around me, I hear the sound of shouts. Loud shouts and footsteps crowding me, and a face comes down close to mine and holds my face. Their hands are warm, and the face swims before me. I don’t know who it is I’m looking at for a good five seconds before I realize it.

“Simon?” I croak out, but the black dots have gotten bigger, and I let myself be comforted by the thickening darkness for a bit.

I sit next to his bed, restlessly bouncing my right leg up and down. I’ve been holding his hand for so long now. He honestly sleeps more peacefully right now that he ever did in our room. I woke up to Baz’s nightmares many more times than my own.

His eyelashes have fluttered a few times in the last hour, and I’ve taken it as a good sign. His parents have been filtering in and out of the room, and they do their best not to give me too many dirty looks. Rather, his father does. Baz’s stepmom is honestly one of the nicest women I’ve ever met, but that could be a sham. She’s offered me food, water, and a bedroom, but I’ve declined everything except the water.

I’m alone with him now, and my fingers draw little patters and play with his fingers. He makes some noises in his sleep now, and I wish I could speak to him now. I wish he’d wake up abruptly and hug me and say, “Thank Merlin, Simon! The truth is that I’m extremely and desperately in love with you! Also, I can explain the dead body!” But he just lays still and makes more noises.

I wish I was more poetic so I could describe him in better detail. When he sleeps, he’s different than when he’s awake. He looks younger and more relaxed. Being the Chosen One has weighed him down, and he doesn’t look eighteen. He looks twenty-one, which I hope he’ll like when he tries to get into a bar. He’s more at peace with himself in sleep. All of his issues of the days are gone, and I can just see Baz.

I used to watch him sleep sometimes. Not in a creepy way or anything, though I don’t think you can watch someone sleep in a non-creepy way. I would watch him when I couldn’t sleep or anything like that. Baz would toss only about twice in his sleep, and if he had a nightmare, he would scream himself awake. Those were the worst night. When I accidentally saw him have a nightmare, I subconsciously vowed to myself never to watch him sleep again. It was too upsetting for me to see him go through pain and not be able to do anything about it, and it’s not like I could wake him. All I could do when he had nightmares was wake and ask if he was okay, if he needed anything, and if I could help. But he’d just shrug me off politely and go back to sleep.

“You should wake up,” I said, talking to him sleeping. “Your father and stepmom need to talk to you. I need to tell you so much, Baz. Damnit, you almost died, and then I would have never been able to tell you anything.”

I stop talking, realizing that he’s not listening, and confessing twice would probably kill me. His room calms me, though. The walls, bedding, and furniture are dark, but it offers a warm glow. He is in his bed, the covers pulled up to his waist, and I’m in one of those armchairs that’s comfy and cushiony and seems to swallow you when you sit down. I scooted closer a while ago when his stepmom offered me the chair. I think she thinks I’m extremely weird, or maybe she knows that I have feelings for him, because Penny guessed in two seconds after I found him missing.

I had been striding across the lawn on the way to Mummer’s when I saw the Mage teleport them somewhere. I dropped everything that I had and began to run to that spot, but Penny stopped me. I started freaking out, telling her what I had seen, and she literally slapped me. Like, across the face. The she said, “Stop babbling and find him! This isn’t good, Simon, but it’s quite obvious you’re hopelessly in love with him, and I don’t want to deal with a heartbroken you!” She then helped me track Baz and sent a message to his parents about what had happened.

That’s how I got here. With a passed-out Baz and a strong urge to pee, but I don’t want to leave him. I don’t want him to wake up while I’m gone or anything else. I want to stay here with him.

He grunts in his sleep and turns his head, and a piece of hair falls into his face. I reach across him and brush it away, tucking it behind his ear. He grunts again, and his eyelids flicker before snapping open. He blinks a lot and looks around until his eyes reach me. I blush because my hand is tucked behind my ear and I’m leaning across him.

“Am I dead?” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth. I laugh because he’s woken up and he just asked if he was dead and I’m in love with him. I shake my head and pull him into a bone-crushing hug. He wraps his arms questioningly around me before he squeezes me tightly. I hold onto him for a long time, and when I pull back, his eyebrows have quirked. I just smile and shake my head again.

“You’re not dead,” I whisper. Then I say, “You almost were, but you’re fine. You’re here. You’re alive.” My eyes search his face and see that he’s really awake, and he’s looking at me like I’m insane. I realize that my heart is pounding, but I’m not nervous or upset. I’m angry.

“You’re such an idiot,” I tell him, pushing him back down onto the mattress. He looks up at me and huffs. “Don’t huff at me, Baz. You could have died! Did you forget for a second that you have a wand and magic and a brain?!”

He huffs again and yells, “Did you maybe think for one second to not leave the room, therefore not leaving me all alone?!” I sit back and stare at him, and we’re both glaring at one another. I cross my arms and look at the floor, tapping my foot on the ground repeatedly and trying not to look at him. I fail and let my eyes lift to look at him through my eyelashes.

Baz is staring back at me with his gray eyes and moving his feet under the sheets. He twists the sheets with his fingers and sits up again, saying, “Why were you there?” quietly. I shrug my shoulders before responding.

“I had to find you,” I whisper back. I don’t trust my voice.

“Why?”

I shrug my shoulders again and say, “Because I had to. Because I would have never lived with myself if I didn’t go after you.” I pause and focus on him. “Because I like you too much to let you die.”

He pauses and stops moving the sheets with his fingers. His feet stop turning, and I can even see that he’s not really breathing. If I don’t say or do something, he might blow up again. Before he gets a word out, I move forward and press my lips against his.

Part 3 coming soon!!

[acedesigns]

The Archaeologist - Chapter 4

Glass littered the streets. Bloody feet made themselves apparent on the stained pavement. Carriages were being filled by those with tanned skin and red eyes. They struggled, screamed how they were the protectors, but their cries of protest were soon silenced when the carriage’s door shut.

Ahura peered around a corner. She kept a finger to her lips while she looked back at those in her shadow. Quickly, she started running. Those with white hair followed closely. The graveyard was just ahead of them. Once the ledge came into sight, Ahura stopped and quickly lifted those above her. Her head shot backwards, guards were coming.

“Hurry!” she cried and lifted one of the last Sheikah above her head.

She turned around, only to be met with a fist to her face. She fell to the ground, blood oozed from an already swollen lip. Ahura looked up with fear in her eyes. A guard raised his sword and got ready to strike down. A rock hit his hand. The sword fell to the ground below.

“Over here!” Ahura’s eyes shifted towards where a voice came from. They widened, and she quickly stood up as the person ran out of the graveyard.

“Impa, no!”

--

“The Sheikah locked themselves up in the Shadow Temple, at least what was left of them,” Ahura said as she looked up at Lord Ganondorf. “I don’t know if Impa was captured or not. All of the Sheikah that were captured, though, were killed. The same goes for the Zora. Gorons are used as slaves.”

“Where are the Zoras and Gorons that escaped?”

“The Water Temple and Death Mountain,” Ahura replied. “Though, it’s only a matter of time before the Hylian army breaks their way in.” She paused for a moment. “They’re building a dam to block water from flowing into Lake Hylia so they can gain access to the Water Temple. I don’t know what they’re doing about Death Mountain.”

The gears in her head went into overdrive. Strategies started to formulate in her mind. The fact that Princess Zelda was nearing her late teens meant that she would associate herself in politics and perhaps Lord Ganondorf soon. The hero would be around the same age as well. If those  two beings were as noble as the legends claimed that they were, then they would most likely go against the prejudice against the different races. Perhaps, this time, those two would fight against Hyrule and not Ganondorf. Maybe, just maybe, the three pieces of the legendary Triforce would come together for the good of Hyrule without Lord Ganondorf’s darker side trying to claim it for his malicious desires.

Ahura gazed into Lord Ganondorf’s orange hues. She looked for the darkness that was claimed to have corrupted his soul. Yes, there was hate. While there was hate in everyone, there was more in him. But she couldn’t bring herself to blame him for that. What happened to his people was unforgivable. She saw the cause of his hate, and that cause was pain. She took a deep breath before she decided to throw her trust into this phantom of a man.

“There’s also the fact that Princess Zelda and her hero have been reborn,” Ahura said with caution. She felt herself shrink down under the ginormous man before her. Something in his facial features changed. She couldn’t be sure if it was agitation, anxiety, or excitement that flooded his expressions. She decided to press on since she wasn’t getting a solid response from the man. “Also, when we were in the building during the sand storm, the Sage of Spirit talked to me.”

“What?” Lord Ganondorf growled out.

“He didn’t really say anything. Just that the end of Hyrule was upon us, but that usually happens when the Hero comes back. What he actually said was that Princess Zelda and the Hero might not be needed. I mean, he said that if I could get rid of the hatred consuming the land and turn it into love, Hyrule could be saved.”

Ahura crossed her arms over her chest as a sort of shield. Her gaze fell from the man’s eyes and to the floor that was covered in majestic rugs. She remained silent. The only sound in the tent came from her slightly ragged breaths.

The silence finally got to her, she looked back up at Lord Ganondorf who seemed deep in thought. She bit her lip and said, “I was thinking a coup d’état would be needed in order to stop the genocide, but that could lead to even more bloodshed. The last time that happened, a civil war  among all the races broke out which resulted in most of the Sheikah being either killed or exiled. It’s just now that I’m realizing that they were sent to an entirely different realm.”

“I’ll need to get my real body back,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

Ahura watched him warily. If he wanted to have Hyrule for his own, this would be the perfect opportunity to seize it. She just had to question how much of a tyrant he would be. In her mind, she could only imagine how much worse everything would be. It was only then she realized a king needed people in order to rule.

“If you take over Hyrule, what do you plan on doing with it?” she asked. Courage was gathering inside of her. Much like the hero of old, she found a burning passion inside of her grow. It was a flame that kept her questioning if the lord was all things evil or the bringer of all things good.

Lord Ganondorf eyed her. He finally backed off and gave her room to breathe. He picked through various scrolls. His hands finally gripped one before he tossed it to her. Ahura just managed to clumsily catch it. He told her to read its contents.

Her eyes widened. It was a legend of when he overthrew the royal family during when the Hero of Time defeated Lord Ganondorf as a teenager, contrast to history’s child. Castle Town was in ruins. ReDeads walked the once bustling city. A Poe collector was the only person actually living there.

“That was a lie,” Lord Ganondorf sneered through his teeth. “Castle Town never fell like that. Yes, people fled. They were afraid to be governed under a new hand. Still, there were people living there. ReDeads never did set foot inside the city. I wouldn’t have allowed that. The only thing in that scroll was accurate was that the road to the castle was destroyed. I didn’t want to deal with a rebellion just yet, and so I destroyed it to make it harder for people to make it through. The sages, having sworn allegiance to the royal family, made it possible for the Hero of Time to destroy me.”

“It’s because you lost that they made everything seem much worse than it actually was,” Ahura apathetically stated. “It happens all the time in history, nothing new. That’s why it’s my job to find out what the truth is.” She rolled the ancient scroll back up with great care. “But in my opinion, there are no victors in war. Just those who haven’t lost as much.”

Lord Ganondorf chuckled. “You look no older than twenty-five, and yet you’re spewing out ideas that are far wiser than many of your elders.”

Ahura grew silent. Her blue eyes searched his. The girl’s long, pointed ears twitched from the sound of his chuckles. There was a sense of remorse about her.

“When you watch the ones you try to protect die, your friends, you tend to age faster than your body does,” she said without any hint of emotion lingering in her voice. “I might be a Hylian, but I grew up in Kakariko Village. The Sheikah were a part of my life. While I was never accepted by them, due to me not being part of their blood, I looked up to them and wanted to be like them. They were my heroes. Then, they were killed right in front of me. A child should never see something like that.”

“How long has the genocide been going on?”

“The killings started when I was five, but before that the remaining Sheikah had to be marked. They were all required to wear a red eye with the word “Sheik” on their clothes. Then, they weren’t allowed to practice their rituals. They couldn’t shop at the same places we did. They were treated worse than ants. The people believed that the military was protecting the Sheikah, and the Hylians, from something. People thought that the Sheikah were planning on trying to overthrow the Hylian family again. The world had been blinded to the inhumane crimes that have taken place. That’s why no one is helping.”

“They have someone to help now.”